A Cry For Help
by E. J. Morgan
Summary: Where do you go when you don't have any friends and family to turn to? What do you do when you feel totally alone? These are the questions Q wants an answer for. But as he seeks these answers will he go too far to be brought back?
1. When Your Best is Not Good Enough

**Chapter 1.**

 **When Your Best is Not Good Enough**

Q entered Q-Branch in the afternoon on Friday, having just finished briefing with M. The boss had informed him that he was going to take a holiday the next day and travel to Scotland with his sister and her family for a bit of relaxation. He had said Q should do the same and relax a bit instead of working non-stop like he had been doing for months now.

" _You haven't had a holiday for ages, my boy. We don't have any ongoing missions right now and we're not expecting difficulties. Don't come in tomorrow, rest a bit."_

" _But what for? What should I do then?"_

" _Well, what do you do for fun?" – Q was sure it was supposed to be a completely innocent question, but it sounded mocking to him anyway._

" _I don't know…"_

" _Well, meet your friends, go out… enjoy yourself!" – The looked so genuinely happy about giving his favorite Quartermaster this brilliant idea that Q didn't have the heart to tell him about how he'd rather swallow a blade than stay home alone for a whole day, doing nothing._

So, now the twenty-four years old Quartermaster entered Q-Branch, thinking it would be a good idea to look for an occupation for tomorrow. Maybe with friends. He didn't really know if he actually had friends but he liked his colleagues well enough. Worth a try at any rate…

He found his employees ('minions', as everyone affectionately liked to call them) bent over one of the desks, all together, as if plotting something. He could hear a lot of giggling and happy exclamations. 'Super, they're carefree and not working… Now or never!' – He thought to himself as he approached them and cleared his throat to get their attention. They jumped as if stuck by a particularly vicious bee and guiltily looked at him.

"Sorry, boss, we were just planning our weekend."

"It's all right, Sirg. What are you going to do?"

"We've managed to secure tickets for our favorite team's match." – He said proudly, waving around said tickets with glee for Q to see.

"That sounds very interesting. How did you manage to get them?" – Maybe he could get one for himself and accompany them? Not that he had any clue about football but it didn't matter anyway. The company did.

"Oh, it was not easy! Not easy at all. Actually, these were the very last ones still available. They're completely sold out!"

"Are you sure?" – Just his luck…

"Yes. Why?"

"Nothing. Have a good time, guys!" – He shrugged, pretending not to be disappointed at all.

"Thanks, boss!"

Q waved for them to continue forming their plans, as he entered his separate office. The one that was private. Away from others. 'The perks of being the leader', Moneypenny had once said. Yeah, of course. Because being separated is such an advantage…

But this thought also gave him an idea. Eve! They were friends, he was sure. She sometimes came to his office to visit him, and always teased him about one thing or another. She also always 'threatened' to have Double-Os manhandle him and take him out to eat, because he – according to her – was 'completely unable to properly care for himself, just like a toddler'. That was it then!

He quickly finished for the day, packed his things and ran to seek out Moneypenny. He found her heading towards the exit; high heels clicking happily on the floor.

"Hi, Eve! What's up?" – He greeted her cheerfully.

"Q! Are my eyes playing tricks on me or are you actually leaving HQ before midnight for once?"

"I am leaving! Cool, isn't it? And guess what: M gave me a free day for tomorrow!"

"No!?" – She said in a fake shocked voice, clutching her hand to her chest as if fearing a heart attack. – "How are you going to survive it?"

"I don't know… Any suggestions?" – Please, take the hint, Evie… Please!

"Maybe you could work from home?" – She said teasingly, winking at him.

Okay, well, that was not what he had wanted to hear… but she had only been joking… right?

"What do you do on your free days?" – He tried again.

"Well, for example, tomorrow we're going to visit Bob's parents in Oxford."

"Bob?"

"My boyfriend… You know, I've told you about him!"

"Oh, yeah… really, you have. Well, I hope you'll have a good time then."

"Thanks, Q. But really: what are _you_ going to do? You're not really going to work, are you?" – She asked, this time in a more serious tone with a bit of concern mixed into it.

"Nah… I'll think of something. Don't worry about me. I haven't had a day off for so long, I have a lot to make up for." – Like… what? He surely had things to do, didn't he…?

"It's good then. Have a nice day. Bye!" – And she was gone; no doubt already having forgotten all about her 'friend', and planning her wonderful day instead in her head.

'Just great…' – Luckily, he was good at hiding his disappointment. Or maybe, people just didn't care enough to notice.

Q stood in the gate totally lost, with no idea what he should do now. He didn't want to go home to the empty and cold apartment, as it was still early: only 5 PM. He had never left work that soon before.

Someone touched his shoulder from behind and he turned around with a startle only to find a grinning Tanner looking at him with sparkling eyes.

"Hey, easy, pal! What's wrong, did you see a ghost? You're standing here rooted to the spot as if something horrible had happened!"

"Oh, Bill… No… I'm finished for today and I'm free tomorrow. I'm just trying to decide what to do."

"Really? You're so lucky then!"

"Lucky? Why?"

"Well, because you don't have a wife and kids… you're free to do whatever you want. No expectations… I used to be that free…" – Yeah, that was one way to put it. Judging by how nostalgic Bill looked when talking about freedom, the Quartermaster suspected he should be thankful to still have it… Q knew the man had two small kids: a boy of seven and a girl of five. He thought they must be adorable. He liked kids a lot – not that he'd had much opportunities to actually meet some, mind you.

"You know, if you need a babysitter for them, you can just ask me anytime. I'd like to do it, it wouldn't be a problem."

"Thank you, buddy! But they're little menaces; I wouldn't like to burden you with them."

Q knew that meant in reality: 'I don't trust you enough with my kids.' He thought he should have known it. It wasn't as if Bill and him had been best friends or anything.

"Yeah, all right. Good evening then, Bill." – He said and exited the building, walking towards the subway station.

As he was about to descend the stairs to the metro, he heard two excited voices calling to him.

He looked up just as 006 and 007 came running towards him, laughing and teasing each other all the way. Now what could these crazy agents want? It usually didn't mean anything good for him when these two men were that happy.

"Hey, Q: we were making a bet with Alec. Help us, please: which one of us do you think is going to pick up more girls this weekend?"

"Before you say anything, Q: the only right answer is ME of course!" – Warned Alec and playfully patted the smaller man's back, causing Q to nearly fall headfirst to the pavement from the force of it. Trevelyan grabbed him by his cardigan to pull him upright with an apologetic smile. – "Oh, sorry, mate. I always forget how light you are."

"Well, I think you both have equal chances." – Said the younger man, rubbing his shoulder in pain, deciding to ignore the comment about his weight. – "Where would you like to go try it?" – He inquired.

"Very diplomatic! James, did you hear this answer? This man could be a politician!"

"I did. And we were thinking of 'The Red Light'." – It was one of the most popular clubs in London. Q had never been there of course. He had never been anywhere.

"It sounds interesting. Maybe I should check it out some day as well." – He tried, waiting for their reactions.

"You!?" – They both exclaimed with wide eyes.

"But Q, it's for… ahm… you know…" – Alec trailed off and looked towards Bond for help.

"It's for… well… it's not for you!" – James concluded.

"Why not?"

"Because you're small and skinny and weak… They'd trample you to death in two minutes!" – Came the simple explanation as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and Q were stupid not to have thought of it.

"I understand. Well, thanks for the warning. You two have a good time then."

Suddenly the solitude in his own apartment didn't sound so bad anymore so he all but fled home without a backward glance.

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

Q sat on his bed, legs drawn up, arms folded around his knees and head resting on them; staring into the infinite nothingness of the dark room.

For lack of better idea, he had gone to bed a quarter of an hour ago but then, after turning around and suffering for long minutes, he'd had to begrudgingly admit he wasn't tired enough to sleep just yet. It was only 8:10 PM after all. But what should he do then?

He had already read all his books at least three times, even though – thanks to his eidetic memory – he knew all of them by heart after the first time. He had watched every movie he could think of; some of them hadn't even come out in the cinemas yet. He wasn't in mood to play solitaire anymore because it was such an easy game; he always completed it in less than two minutes. He sometimes even played chess against the computer but he beat it every time almost right away.

All in all: it was quite boring being a genius. A genius without friends and family…

He used to like writing on different forums online, talking to people who didn't know anything about him, but when he had started to work for MI6 he had lost all his 'friends' (if you could call them that) because he had usually not been able to answer them for days. Now when he had tried to get in touch with them again, neither of them had answered. He supposed he deserved the cold shoulder so he couldn't bring himself to be angry with them. It wouldn't help his situation anyway.

He was alone. Completely and utterly lonely.

Oh, how he wished for friends he could go to museums, theaters and cinemas with! With whom he could go out for drinks, restaurants, excursions… They could talk about books and hobbies and go to places. They would care about each other and he'd know he mattered to someone. He didn't have a family; hadn't had for ages and he had made peace with the fact. But was it some kind of punishment he shouldn't have friends either?

In the beginning, he had still hoped he could find people in MI6 who were interested in him. It seemed logical to befriend those he spent most of his time with anyway. At least he wouldn't have to keep secrets from them. So, he had tried so hard! Not just today: ever since he had been there.

He had scheduled his first meeting with Bond in the National Gallery in hopes that maybe they could find a common ground and hit off with a good start. He had heard the agent liked art. But it had backfired spectacularly, as the man had wanted to leave as soon as the 'stranger' had taken a seat next to him. Even after he had introduced himself, 007 had done nothing but tease him mercilessly about his age and looks. Furthermore, he had asked for help, had Q running to Austria to help him (even though he hated flying with a passion!), and what had he gotten in return? Abandonment to his fate in a foreign country with criminals wanting to capture him, then being abandoned after everything they had gone through, having to explain a stellar-prized car's absence to his boss on his own.

At the end of the day, Bond – and everyone else for that matter – never seem to be able to run quick enough away from him, as soon as their task is done with. Needless to say that, by now, all his expectations had been shattered to thousand miniature pieces. They seemed to like him good enough when it was about work but nobody wanted to have to do anything with him outside of it. What a mess!

He looked at the clock: only five minutes later than before. At this rate, he'd die of boredom before he'd have to report back to work on Sunday.

Suddenly, he had a brilliant idea: who said he couldn't go out to look for company among strangers? Not just Double-Os were allowed to go to clubs after all, right!? Okay, he wouldn't go to The Red Light, as he really didn't wish to meet people who had rejected his attempts at joining them in the first place, but there were other places in London he could go to. He just had to look them up in the internet. Really: how hard could it be to find company in a city with a population of over 8 million!?

After ten minutes of searching, he had decided on a disco that was near enough to his home that he could walk there. It was just perfect!


	2. New Friends

**Chapter 2.**

 **New Friends**

Q entered the 'Sparkle' and looked around. Well, he tried to. It was too dark for his liking, too smoky, and also too noisy. Not only because of the blaring music (or that _something_ they called music here… more like rhythmical drumming if he wanted to be honest…) but also hundreds of people trying to shout over the commotion. It all instantly made his head hurt.

But he had decided to give this whole thing a chance, so he wasn't about to give it up so quickly. He made his way towards the bar with difficulty, fighting with the crowd all the way, and asked for a beer as soon as he had managed to reach his destination. Of course, the barkeeper couldn't hear him and signaled for the blushing Quartermaster to speak a bit louder.

"A beer, please!" – Shouted Q desperately, still without success. He was just about to look for a piece of paper and write down his order when he felt someone sit down next to him.

The man was about his age, maybe a bit older but not by much. He was wearing an earring, had little to no hair at all, had good visible tattoos on his bare arms (he only wore a sleeveless white shirt and military pants) and presented the air of confidence Q could never in a million years hope to achieve.

The newcomer signaled to the barkeeper to come and ordered for both of them a cocktail, clearly not caring for the Quartermaster's own choice of beverage.

"Never ask for a simple beer here, mate. They'll rather pretend not to understand. It's so uncool. Only old people drink beer!"

"Really?" – He hadn't known that. Super, he'd only been here for ten minutes and had already made a complete fool of himself. Not a good start. But at least it probably couldn't get any worse… – "Thanks for the help then."

"It's okay, I can see you're new here. Are you from far away?"

"Actually, only from across the road…" – Admitted Q, blushing again. The man had thought he was a foreigner; he must have looked very out of place then; maybe he should have put on another pullover? Or a bottom up cardigan perhaps?

"Oh… come on, let's go outside, we can't talk in here!" – Said the man and already grabbed his arm to pull him towards a door in the back Q hadn't even notices before. The frantic Quartermaster only had enough time to quickly snatch his drink off the counter before he was ushered towards said exit.

Once outside, the man let go of his arm and lit a cigarette.

"My name's Aaron. And yours?"

"I'm… ahm…" – What should he say? His name was top secret after all and he hadn't come up with a plausible story for himself yet. – "I'm… Jack Roberts." – That had been 003's last alias but he had used it in Italy. Surely, nobody in England could have heard it. Besides, it was a common enough name in his opinion.

"Would you like one?" – Aaron casually offered him a cigarette.

"No, thanks. I don't smoke."

Aaron looked at him with a combination of amusement and pity.

"It's not a cigarette, man. It's weed!"

"What?"

"Weed! Don't tell me you don't even know what it is; nobody can be that innocent! Next, you'll tell me you're a blushing virgin!" – Seeing Q's expression, he asked horrified. – "You're not a virgin, are you!?"

"Of course not! I'll try it!" – Said Q quickly, and took a puff just to avoid any further questions.

He instantly felt horrible and collapsed in a very undignified, coughing heap onto the ground.

"Jesus, you're like a child!" – Was all Aaron said, before taking the smoke from the suffering man. – "Stop it! You're going to alert someone! It's illegal stuff, ya know!"

It was easier said than done: the Quartermaster was in agony! He couldn't breathe, he couldn't even get up… He couldn't do anything for minutes. Aaron just watched, never trying to help him. After a while, Q managed to gather himself enough to sit up and lean back against the wall. Only then did Aaron speak again.

"Remind me the next time not to give you anything. Maybe you can't even keep your alcohol?"

"No, no, it's okay. Of course I can." – In reality, he had no idea as he had never drunk a cocktail before. He didn't even know what it was. But he desperately wanted to prove his companion that he wasn't a complete sissy, and after this little fiasco with the smoke, he really couldn't afford to say no to anything anymore.

So, he thought, 'now or never', and drank out his whole glass at one go to get it over with. It burnt all the way down his throat as he swallowed and he nearly started choking again.

"Wow. That was… certainly unexpected. Do you always drink like that?"

"Of course." – Q wanted to say more but then thought better of it for fear he would throw up. He felt terrible. What the hell had been in that drink!? Maybe he should have asked before drinking it…

"So, you're not hopeless after all. That's good. What are you doing tomorrow?"

"I… nothing." – Admitted Q.

"Wrong. You're meeting with me and my friends. I want to introduce you to them. They'll like you; you have an adorably innocent air around you."

"I can be tough." – He insisted, without any real conviction.

Aaron smirked.

"No doubt about that. You can prove it tomorrow."

They agreed on the time and place then said goodbye and went their separate ways. As soon as Q entered his apartment, he had to run into the bathroom. This time he did throw up. But still: he had found a friend and tomorrow he'd most probably make more new pals! This was worth any hangover he knew he would have soon!

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

Just as he had expected: Q's sleep had been fitful and he had woken with a killer headache. It was not how he had wanted to spend his vacation! But neither was it with sitting alone at home, so, it was still the smaller of two bad things, he decided, as he started to get ready for the day's upcoming adventures.

Aaron had told him the night before to dress a bit 'less like an old grandpa and more like a cool guy'. He didn't know what that meant and didn't have a clue what to do, since he only owned clothes like the ones he'd had on yesterday. Now he had a sneaking suspicion this might be one of the reasons nobody had ever wanted to befriend him in MI6. He wasn't 'cool' enough; whatever that was.

In the end, he chose a plain white shirt (though short-sleeved and not sleeveless like Aaron's – he simply couldn't find one like his new friend's) and blue jeans with slightly shabby trainers. He hoped this outfit would be up to par with that mysterious group.

He needn't have worried: when he arrived at the pre-arranged place some guys were already present, and all of them looked similar to him. Though they all had tattoos and earrings as well, there was nothing he could (or wanted…) to do about it at that time.

Aaron grabbed him in a bear-hug and pulled him into the middle of the circle of friends with a proud smile.

"Guys, this is Rocky." – He had informed Q the other night that 'Jack' was too common a name, so he had christened him 'Rocky' which was; in Aaron's opinion; a much better choice for someone who wanted to belong to their group. He had never asked Q if he actually wanted to join; he had always just presumed he would. – "He's not used to weed but drinks alcohol like water."

Everyone looked impressed and the Quartermaster winced inwardly. This was not what he had wanted them to be told, since it could mean they'd expect him to demonstrate this skill in the future and he really didn't wish to suffer through another night like the one he'd just had…

"You'll have ample opportunities to show us this skill, pal!" – Assured him one of the guys who was – as later turned out – called by everyone just Spikey.

The others were introduced as Smokey, Cutter, Bobby, Dino and Gary. Q cringed at the cliché, feeling as if he had entered a Z-rated action movie, but thought it better not to giggle out loud. He was fairly certain the other men's names were just as fakes as his own. Apparently, he wasn't the only one whose civilian name wasn't considered cool enough for a gang. A 'cutter' indeed… The Double-Os would definitely die of laughter here.

Well, but the Double-Os had better things to do than keep Q company, so… It didn't really matter what they would think of his newfound friends. They'd never learn about any of this anyway.

"So, what will we do today?" – Asked the one who had said was named Dino.

"Let's hang around 'Dashers'. It opens at 6 PM." – Said Bobby, referring; as Q later learned; to a rundown disco at the edge of the city.

Everyone agreed so they made their way there. As soon as Q sat eyes on the place, he paled. That was even worse than the other one he had been to the day before! He had never thought he'd ever enter a place like that. He, who hadn't ever tried a simple cigarette before because it disgusted him… He, who had always kept away from any kind of trouble and had preferred the company of his computers and gadgets instead of noisy, crowded places. 'Oh, God…' – He thought desperately then tried to forcefully remind himself why he was doing this in the first place. – 'I want friends… No: I need friends! My old ways only secured solitude for me. I need to change. I need to be more like them!'

"So, Rocky. What do you think?" – Asked Gary, and Q needed a few seconds to register that he was talking to him.

"Oh… I'm… _speechless_."

This seemed to be the correct answer, seeing that the others obviously mistook his reluctance for astonishment.

"I agree. This is the most brilliant place. Come on, then! The owner of the club is a good friend of ours, let's visit him!" – Continued the man, completely misinterpreting Q's reaction, and so they dragged him into a hidden room just behind the stage where a drugged-looking DJ provided some noise others probably called 'cool music' but Q only detested with all his heart. His head was already starting to pound again in time with the rhythm and he felt slightly nauseous.

"Dick, this is our new friend, Ricky." – Introduced him Aaron to the boss of the place, who was a frightening-looking, very tall and fat man with his long, greasy hair pulled back in a pony-tail and a moustache that seemed too surreal to be real.

'Dick' seemed to have similar reservations towards Q, as he silently regarded him with narrowed eyes for what felt like an eternity, before apparently deciding he wasn't a threat. Then – and only then – did he take the smaller man's outstretched hand to shake it so violently, Q became afraid he'd lose the limb in the end.

In the end, he had to smoke a cigarette and drink two cans of beer during their stay. The 'boss' seemed accepting enough of him by the time he had finished his first can even if he found his lack of tolerance for the smoke somewhat embarrassing and amusing at the same time.

Despite the small coughing fit though, Q realized that the smoke didn't bother him as much that time as before.

He was definitely making progress, he noted with delight.


	3. Changes

**Chapter 3.**

 **Changes**

The next day, as the Quartermaster walked into MI6 Headquarters, everyone gaped at him in surprise for some reason. He couldn't understand why; it wasn't as if he had changed so much during a day and a half of 'hanging out' with his new friends.

So, what if he had a cigarette in his hand? He had to get used to it so that he wouldn't make a fool of himself the next time he was offered one! And what if he looked a little rumpled and dressed a bit differently than before? Why did they care anyway? They certainly never had before… All right, the swagger was maybe a bit exaggerated as well, but so what? He had to learn!

So, he just ignored every questioning glance as he entered Q-Branch and shut himself into the safety of his office. This time he really appreciated the opportunity to disappear from other people's curious eyes.

As he had expected, the day couldn't pass without someone making a comment about his new style. And of course it had to be Bond and Trevelyan. Who else…?

"What's up with the new image, kid? Playing dressing up?" – Asked 007, looking totally baffled.

Q had to bite his tongue to stop a very rude comeback to that question. It was so typical for Bond to make fun of him as a first reaction!

"It's just that you're so different today…" – Remarked 006, equally surprised but also probably sensing the younger man's rising anger.

"I really don't know what you two are talking about." – Lied Q through his teeth, forcefully calming himself down. – "And I also don't know why you're even here? I don't think either of you is scheduled for any outfitting or training. I don't have new weapons for you to test or anything to explode."

"Why, can't we just come and say hi? Do we have to have an official reason to visit you?" – Now Alec really looked a bit hurt and Q felt a pang of guilt; but just momentarily. It passed with the other agent's next words as quick as it came.

"Not that we hadn't hoped to find something interesting here, mind you…" – Smirked Bond.

The man even had the nerve to wink!

"Well, sorry to disappoint, guys, but I really don't have anything for you. So shoo."

Naturally they had wanted something. When did they not? Nobody came to him just to talk or see how he was doing. He should learn it by now and not be disappointed every time he got confronted with this again and again.

He felt like the week just couldn't pass soon enough. He had decided that from now on he would take all his free days and spend them with his real friends. Why should he invest all of himself into something that didn't give him anything in return or want him for himself at all? That really had to end. He finally had a private life now.

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

On his next day off, which happened to be next Saturday, he accompanied his 'team' (as he had come to refer to them) to a bowling club. Not that he had ever done anything like that before, but he was willing to learn it. He had to. The others had made it clear that he needed to 'toughen up' and start behaving like an adult instead of a shy and innocent little boy. They were probably right. And maybe – just maybe – even his colleagues would start taking him seriously if he became more like them.

It was worth a try.

"Hey, Rocky! I can see you're not coughing anymore." – Praised him Spikey upon realizing he was now smoking without problems.

Q felt great that someone had noticed his success.

"Yeah, I'm good now. I don't know why I haven't done it before. It's relaxing."

"It is. You just continue to learn, mate. You'll be fine."

"I'm sure I'll be…" – The Quartermaster replied and just about managed to silence the little voice called 'coincidence' whispering warnings into his ear as well. What good had it done for him in the past anyway?

He rolled the bowl and managed to hit only one sole pin. The mocking laugh of his team just made him more determined to prove himself.

'I'll show them that I belong here. I can do this.'

By the second try he hit three more and his friends cheered loudly.

'See? I'm not as pathetic as everyone thinks I am. I'm a genius after all; I can learn.'

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

Alec and James were worried. Tanner and Moneypenny too. The minions had realized something was very wrong with their 'Overlord' and had sent R to talk to M.

"Sir, we just don't understand. He's not himself at all! He dresses and talks very strange nowadays and always keeps away from us. He disappears for whole days when he doesn't have to be here even though he used to come in even then before. I had the impression all week that he just couldn't wait for the weekend to come. When was the last time he voluntarily took his free days?" – Nobody could answer that. – "We just don't understand…" – Finished R with a sad expression.

Moneypenny nodded in understanding.

"He used to be such a lovely young man, so full of life. Funny and witty… But now… I don't even know him anymore. He's a complete stranger."

"He doesn't even chew us out about broken equipment anymore." – Said Alec.

"Yes! He just shrugged and said 'of course it did, Bond' when I told him that a komodo dragon had eaten my Walther!" – Exclaimed Bond as if not getting reprimanded by the Quartermaster for losing his gun had deeply offended him.

M raised an eyebrow at that but then sobered immediately. It was a serious matter after all.

"We all need to pay attention to him and try to find out what's going on. I suggest we don't ask him yet; I'm afraid that wouldn't come over very well right now. He doesn't appear to me as if he's trusting us very much at that point..." – He reluctantly admitted.

"No, he really doesn't. I tried to talk to him: completely useless. I don't understand what could be wrong!" – Shook his head Tanner. – "Is that our fault? Did we hurt him in some way? Did something happen we don't know about or didn't notice?"

Everyone just shook their heads sadly, not being able to think of anything that could have caused this.

"Let's just pay attention. We have to simultaneously give him some space but also be alert. I know it's a lot to ask and not easy to achieve, but…"

"We'll do our best, M. I promise." – Declared Bond and the others were quick to agree. They needed their Quartermaster, missed his old self and would do everything in their power to help him find back to himself.


	4. When Things Get Out of Hand

**Chapter 4.**

 **When Things Get Out of Hand**

The next time the team came together to 'hang out', Q had a feeling they had gone way too far, but wisely kept his mouth shut. What did he know about spending time with friends, anyway?

Still, as he stood rooted to the spot, watching the one named 'Cutter' deliver a good kick to the nearby trash bin, making it tip over and pour its smelly contents onto the pavement, he just didn't understand what the others found so 'funny', 'cool' and especially 'brave' about it… What did one need bravery to attack a small inanimate object for? Not that it could fight back or anything… Q, who watched agents go into real life-threatening situations day by day without batting an eye, certainly had a completely different definition for being daring. But he was not normal – they were.

"That's the perfect spot." – Declared 'Dino' proudly, kicking the poor, abused bin further away. Bobby opened his enormous backpack, and for the first time, revealed its secrets to Q.

"Spray paints? What are these for?" – Asked the confused newest member, never having used anything like that before.

"Well, for drawing on the wall, of course!" – At the Quartermaster's confused expression, Gary added. – "Graffiti, man! Cool, ain't it?" – He said, as if it were the most obvious thing ever and Q were stupid not to have thought about it on his own.

"What!? But that will damage the wall…"

The others just laughed at him, some already selecting their color for the picture they wanted to make.

"Come on, Rocky, don't be such a spoilsport! Grab one and… let your imagination run wild!" – Encouraged Aaron with a friendly wink.

"NO!" – All the young men stopped to look at him bewildered. – "I mean… I'm… well… not very… ahm… _artistic_ … I can't draw to save my life." – He added apologetically, in reality not having intention of ruining someone else's possession. That was just not him.

"Then write." – Shrugged Smokey, already having turned back to the wall. The others followed his example.

For lack of a better idea, Q quickly drew a small π – the Greek letter for pi – in plain white paint. He instantly felt bad about it and hoped it would come off the next time it rained – though he somehow doubted it.

"No offense, Rocky, but… what's _that_?"

"Nothing. I told you; I'm not artistic."

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

"Hey, Rocky!" – Shouted Aaron after him as he was about to head home for the night.

"Yeah?"

His friend caught up to him, looked around to check that nobody could hear him and continued in a decidedly quieter tone.

"Next Sunday is the third anniversary of Brian's death. You know what that means?" – Q just shook his head. He didn't know and honestly didn't really care either. He felt horrible: his head was pounding as if he had a whole rock band drumming in there and he could barely keep his eyes open. It was evident that alcohol and weed didn't mix well with him, even if he was getting used to simple smoke by now. (Though he still even had some trouble with that if his current nausea was anything to go by…) He had no idea how he'd even get himself all the way to Vauxhall the next day, let alone how he'd be able to deal with minions and Double-Os, and perform all his tasks with the hangover he was sure to expect. – "Brian was my older brother. He was 32 when he died." – Aaron explained, obviously missing the other man's inner turmoil.

"Oh. I'm sorry, man. It sucks. What happened?"

"He was shot by cops." – The statement was just that: a cold explanation, lacking any emotions. Just an answer to an innocent question. That didn't stop Q from a double take.

"What!?"

"He was just fooling around. His gun wasn't even loaded properly. He just wanted money, you know? He wanted to frighten the employees of the bank but didn't want to hurt anyone. The cops didn't care. They just shot him because he refused to give himself up. Those stupid idiots!" – He hit a nearby tree in a sudden aggressive outburst. – "He wouldn't have hurt anyone!"

By now Aaron had dropped the 'cool' façade and his head was getting redder by every word he spat. Q just stood there, absolutely unable to move and had no idea how to react to that at all. Realizing that the other clearly expected some kind of answer from him, he shook his head in denial.

"It's… wow… horrible. I can't believe it." – That part was at least true. He really couldn't believe it: what kind of people had he gotten himself surrounded with!?

"Yes. So, I hope you're free on Sunday, because we're going to get revenge."

"What!? How…?"

"There's that small bank where we just walked by today, remember?"

"Yeah…"

"It's really small and the area isn't so great either. It's not very well protected. We'll do what Brian wanted: go there, frighten everyone and get the money. Just that simply. To honor my brother."

"NO! Aaron, don't be stupid! You'll end up just like your brother! Robbing a bank… it's not something to joke with. Especially in times like that… The police will handle you like some terrorists! They'll shoot first and ask questions later. This is crazy!"

"What, are you afraid?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact: I am!"

"Pity. I thought you were my friend. Turns out you're just a little baby. I bet you still wet the bed at night, hmmm?"

"Aaron, listen to me: I. Am. Your. Friend. But I don't want to rob a bank. And believe me, neither do you."

The older man grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.

"Well, I'm done playing around like a little kid. It's time to really do something. You're either in or not, but you have to know: if you won't come with us now, you'd better never show yourself again. I mean it. We're in it together if we're a team. For Brian."

This couldn't continue like that. It just couldn't. Q couldn't just walk away and let them get themselves killed; he owed them that much at least. There was only one way out of it…

"All right. I'm in."

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

"M! We need to talk!" – Panted Q, all but running into M's office early in the morning the next day, causing Moneypenny to look after him worriedly as he hurried past her without even really glancing into her direction. He had barely been able to contain himself the night before; had nearly called his boss at least three times before finally convincing himself that a few hours wouldn't make any difference.

"Q… What happened? You look… sorry to say, but you look really horrible."

"There's something you have to know… I did… stupid things. And now I'm in trouble." – The Quartermaster hung his head. Admitting this was much harder than he would have thought possible but there was just no way around it now. He had gotten himself into this mess and now it was up to him to try and get out of it somehow.

"Tell me everything." – Instructed M sternly, not looking nearly as surprised as Q had expected him to be at a revelation like that.

So, he did tell the man all that had been going on with him in the last few weeks.

"… and now I don't know what to do. They won't listen to me. I just… don't know. Sir." – He finished slightly out of breath, face red from plain embarrassment about his behavior. Telling the happenings like this, everything seemed even worse than when he had been there, doing them.

M was silent for a long time, just watching him with a completely blank, unreadable expression. Finally, he leaned back in his leather chair and asked gently.

"How did that happen, Q? Why did you even mix with folks like that? That's not you."

Q could instantly feel his temper rising at that.

"With all due respect, sir: You have no idea what I'm like." – Silence again for two whole minutes, during which Q had regretted his outburst. What was happening to him!? He was here to ask for help and still lashed out at the man who he wanted help from! What kind of an idiot was he, really!? – "I'm so sorry, it was uncalled for."

"Yes, it was. Listen, Q; I get it. This job… it's not easy. You lead a whole department, deal with agents, witness horrible things… And you're a genius; your IQ sets you apart from most people. You were looking for friends, for 'normal'; whatever it is. I get this part. I just don't know how you ended up in the worst possible company… Cigarettes, alcohol and even _drugs_. Q, really?"

"I don't understand it myself. It just happened." – The young man admitted miserably.

"Well, be that as it may: I'm glad you've finally come to me. Better late than never, right? Needless to say, we all have noticed something going on, we just couldn't really pinpoint it yet."

"What do you mean by 'all'? The others… Eve… Tanner… Agents…?"

"Yes, and your co-workers. Q, you haven't been yourself; I mean the Quartermaster we thought we know; ever since that time I convinced you to take your first day off. Now I wish I hadn't done that… Then again, otherwise maybe we'd never have learnt that you're unhappy here. For that, I'm very sorry, and we'll need to talk about it at a later time. Right after we'll have sorted out this problem at hand."

"Yes, sir." – Q knew he wouldn't get out of a reprimand. And he didn't want to: he felt he deserved it. – "But what do we do? Even if I don't show on Sunday; they will still attack. They'll get themselves and everyone else in the bank killed. Innocent people… And whatever you may think: they are no terrorists either. They don't deserve this! These are deluded stupid kids who never had a chance. Please, M, do something!"

The leader of MI6 thought about things for a moment.

"Lots of things you've done are crimes. Minor ones, true, but crimes nonetheless. Whatever we do now, it will come to light and others will learn about them. But there's a way out: we'll work with the police together. We get you into the gang as a covert agent, we'll pretend you've been working like that the whole time. You will show on Sunday and you'll go in with them. You won't tell them anything, but everyone inside the bank will be prepared. No civilians."

"M, I… don't know what to say. This would mean I'll get away with the things I did."

"This would even mean you'd get praised for your excellent work. Nobody has to know the truth… This conversation will never get out of this room. Officially, it never even took place. You came here to report to me about your undercover mission. Everyone here will have to believe I knew all along, just wasn't able to tell them because of secrecy. We can argue we needed someone like you, because no agent could possibly have pulled this off believably with that group of young men. We needed someone of your character. Someone they could relate to. Not a Double-O who projects confidence and strength. They'll have to accept this explanation." – M nodded to himself, satisfied with his plan.

"And the police? What will we tell them? MI6 shouldn't handle homeland operations. Especially not 'simple' ones like that."

"Let the police be my problem. They owe me anyway. You'll be on loan with them. We'll do the paperwork and all. But Q, you need to understand: this will be dangerous. I know you're not a field agent and still, this time you'll be required to go in armed and ready to use your gun if needed. Can you do that? I know your marksmanship is excellent; you're the one who develops and tests everything the agents use out there after all; but I also know you've never shot at a person before."

"I… don't want to shoot at a person now either. But should it be needed… yes. I think I can do it." – M continued looking him in the eyes expectantly. – "I _know_ I can do it."

"Excellent."

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

Sunday came entirely too quickly for Q's liking. By that time, everyone had been told their little story and – not a great surprise there – nobody was impressed with the plan.

Tanner hadn't talked to M ever since, except for when it was really necessary for the job. Gone were their friendly conversations and the chess games. Moneypenny held a grudge as well, everyone could see that. She had even gone as far as to 'forget' to buy lump sugar for M's morning coffees.

But out of everyone, Bond and Trevelyan had been the most vocal about their misgivings:

" _M, you can't be serious! Have you totally lost your mind? The boffin isn't an agent, you can't just send him into a situation like that! That's what we are here for! We protect people like Q, not send them to their possible death! Besides, couldn't local police handle this? This is hardly anything for MI6." – Argued Alec, gesticulating wildly, looking for all the world like he wanted to strangle someone. That someone being M, most probably._

" _006, I didn't ask for your opinion on the matter. Q and I have been cooperating with the police on this job for weeks and now that it is finally coming to an end, he naturally has to be there. End of the story."_

 _James shook his head in denial._

" _I don't see why it had to be him. His not a police officer and he's not trained for this. He is the Quartermaster, for God's sake, he should be working from here. Be in safety."_

" _007, you'll be ready to protect him, should it be necessary. That's why I told you. But I'm confident our genius can hold his own. Have faith."_

So, that was how Q had ended up standing with his 'friends' outside the bank early in the morning on a sunny but cold Sunday, trying very hard to hide the fact that his heart was about to jump out of his chest from sheer terror of what awaited them.

"Nervous?" – Guessed Aaron. So much for hiding it then…

"Just a bit. I told you, I'm not happy about this. But it's for your brother, and because of that, I'm with you guys."

"That's the spirit! So, come on, everyone. Let's go inside." – They checked their fake guns for the hundredth time, making sure they looked real enough to frighten everyone in there (or in Q's case, ensuring the others wouldn't notice that his gun was, in fact, very real…), and walked up to the entrance with forced calmness.

The masks they had pulled over their faces made it very hard to see properly and Q felt his palms get slippery with sweat. He wished he were anywhere but here and vowed again never to become a field agent. But now he had to do this. He deserved having to do this. It was all his fault anyway.

Once inside, Aaron shouted to get the attention of the people inside who, Q was aware, already knew they were coming. All of them played the frightened hostages perfectly thought and the group of criminals, minus Q, thought for a moment that everything was going according to plan.

Spikey snatched a plain black sack and handed it over to the 'worker' behind the counter to fill it with money.

"Quickly. Do it. MOVE!"

"Nobody else does anything. One wrong movement, and I'll shoot!" – Warned Dino the others.

The nervous Quartermaster looked around, waiting for the agreed cue. He knew the police wanted to wait until the robbers had the money and tried to leave the place, and he could see it would come to that point any minute now.

And then, it happened. As Spikey turned with the filled sack securely held in his hand, the bank was stormed. At the same time, the 'extras' dropped their act altogether, and all of them produced guns seemingly out of nowhere. The robbers were surrounded.

"Aaron McCormack. You and your accomplices are arrested." – Said one of the officers, nearing them with handcuffs. Aaron panicked and started to wave around his fake gun.

"I'm going to shoot! If you don't let us go, I'll kill you!" – He threatened, not very convincingly as the wavering of his voice betrayed his real feelings. He was horrified.

Q took off his mask and turned to his friend before he too, just like his brother had done, would get himself killed.

"Aaron. It's over. Come on, don't be stupid. The place is packed with police officers, there's nowhere to go. Give up and you'll be fine. They won't shoot if you cooperate."

All the members of the gang turned to him with disbelief on their faces. Gary was the first to find his voice.

"You? You dirty _sneak_!"

"Traitor!" – Shouted Bobby. – "Aaron, it's all your fault, you brought a Judas to our group!"

Aaron seemed very uncertain, momentarily even forgetting their not so favorable position.

"Rocky? Is that true? Did you betray us? Is that why the cops are here?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. But this is too much. You have to realize it. You've gone too far and I tried to warn you but you wouldn't listen. I can't let you rob banks and frighten innocent people. I'm so sorry." – He turned away, not bearing to look them into the eyes any longer. – "Officer. You may take them away."

"Bastard! I trusted you! I took you in! I'm going to kill you!" – Shouted Aaron, suddenly attacking him forcefully.

Q was knocked to the ground from behind with full force. He heard shouting and two gunshots. He felt the air being squeezed from his lungs because of the fall and a sharp pain in his left shoulder. For that, he didn't know the exact reason.

Then everything went black.


	5. Reinvent Yourself

**Chapter 5.**

 **Reinvent Yourself**

Q woke feeling… PAIN. With capitals. Everything hurt, beginning with his pounding head, ending with a couple of toes he suspected could be broken but had actually no idea when and how it had happened. Not to mention his left arm; he could feel the bandage on it without having to look.

He slowly opened his eyes then promptly shut them again, wincing at the light that had momentarily penetrated his foggy brain.

"Hey. You awake?" – Asked a concerned voice. Moneypenny…

"I think I am…" – Croaked Q as a response then gratefully took a few sips of wonderfully cold water, using the straw that had magically appeared in front of him mouth. – "Thanks, Eve."

"Why did you agree to do it?" – Asked Moneypenny sorrowfully, sitting at the edge of the boffin's hospital bed, trying very hard not to cry at the pathetic sight of the totally weak and skinny man lying there helplessly. – "You could have said 'no'. You're not a field agent, this shouldn't have been your job; we have agents for that kind of stuff. I still don't get what M was thinking."

Q felt very guilty about the lies he and M had fed the others and also didn't want M to take the blame for his stupidity. He had already decided to come clean; it wouldn't matter anymore anyway but he just didn't want to lie to his colleagues. He had long ago made this decision and nothing was going to change it.

"It wasn't like that, Eve. It was… different. I went to them. I befriended them. I belonged to them! Until a realized what they were planning…"

Moneypenny didn't seem to understand what he was trying to say.

"What?" – She asked confusedly. – "Well, of course you did. That's what undercover agents do. 'Agents' being the key word… Oh, I'm going to have a discussion with M and-"

"No, Eve. I wasn't undercover. Not until this last stunt. M is very nice, trying to save my reputation by saying that but it's not true. I was a member of their gang. I smoked and drank with them. Hell, I even draw on a wall with paint… Graffiti, I think it's called… I damaged property."

Finally, comprehension dawned on Eve's face.

"I… But why? I'm sorry, I don't... I can't see _you_ doing all these things voluntarily. Help me understand it, please."

"I wanted friends." – Admitted Q with a shrug. – "No. Actually: I needed friends. I was willing to do anything to have them."

"What about us though? _We_ are your friends! And we never expected you to nearly kill yourself for it." – Q didn't know what to say to that. In his opinion, they weren't his friends. Not in the sense he had originally wanted them to be. It was one thing that they liked each other good enough during working hours but none of them had ever wanted to spend time with him outside of Headquarters. Why did Eve even consider this real friendship? Was something wrong with him that he needed more? – "Q, please, explain it to me. Please. I want to understand you. I really want to." – She pleaded.

Q didn't want to hurt her feelings so he decided to just simply say as little as possible. It didn't matter anymore either way. With difficulty, he pulled himself up into a semi-sitting position to be able to look her into the eyes properly as he admitted:

"Eve, I'm leaving."

"What?" – Now she looked horrified. – "What do you mean by 'leaving'? I don't think they'll let you out of the hospital for a while."

"I'm not referring to the hospital. I mean that I'm quitting my job as Quartermaster."

"You're not!"

"Yes, I am. I actually sort of already did. I'll talk to M as soon as I'm out of here but I already sent my letter of resignation to him via e-mail so that he knows what's up. I also told him I'd tell you guys what I really did. I'm going to explain my reasons to him when we'll speak in person."

Tears were silently running down her cheeks now.

"Will you tell me those reasons too?"

After momentarily silence, he relented. It had been hard enough to make the final decision and prepare for his speech he'd give M, but, somehow, he still felt she deserved to know. He might not have gotten from any of them what he had wished for, but he could still see they were all honestly worried and that they did care for him.

"All right. It's just that while I do like computers and programming, I'm just not quite the nerd I'd need to be to continue this. I used to hack systems and build gadgets as a teenager for fun; now I've realized I don't want it to be my entire life."

"But you're a genius! You're better than anyone we've ever had in this position. There's a reason you're the youngest quartermaster ever. The previous M personally named you when the old Q died!"

He was too tired to even begin to deny being a genius and the best in his field. It was the truth and he didn't care enough the play humble. He didn't care about anything anymore.

"It's one thing to be good, or even best, at something. And it's a completely different thing to want to do it nonstop, and give up your whole life for it. I don't want it. It's too much. I get it that you have never seen me be any different and so it must be kind of hard to imagine… But I'm more than that."

"And then what would you like to do? Isn't it possible to fit it in with your duties here?"

"I don't really know but I'm sure I don't want to stay here. And I don't only mean MI6; I mean London. England. Maybe even Europe… I want a completely new life with new perspectives. I want to find a place I can belong."

"But you belong here!" – Now she was crying earnestly and Q felt horrible to be the cause for it. But his decision had been made and he knew he'd stick to it now.

"No. 'Q' belongs here. The computer geek genius who gladly works 16 hours a day seven days a week and doesn't have a private life outside of work at all. Q, who will happily outfit agents and put up with their endless teasing about being a 'spotted teenager' or looking like an underfed twelve-year-old little girl. Q, who is on the comms, constantly available and ready to jump at anyone's bidding."

"But you are Q." – She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"No. There'll be another Q in no time, Eve. From now on, I'm Sebastian Holt again."

"Heh?"

"My real name, Moneypenny. You didn't think I was really called 'Q', did you?"

"Oh. I didn't know… I'm sorry… I mean… Of course, I didn't think…. I just… didn't think at all… Ahm…"

"It's okay. No one knows. Nobody has ever asked…"

"Oh, Q… I mean, Sebastian I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be. Listen, Eve: if we're really friends then we don't need to work at the same place to keep in touch, right? Then we can talk and meet just like two normal people who want to know about the other."

"Naturally! But if you want to work abroad it's not going to be possible."

"There are such things as phones. Besides, I didn't say I don't ever want to set foot in England again. I still don't know where I'll end up but I want to know about you guys."

"All right. If that's what you really want, and that's how you'll be happy, then I'll help you in any way I can."

"Thank you, Eve." – And he meant it.

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

The next conversation wasn't any easier. Of course, why would anything be simple for him…?

"You crazy boy, you could have died! And now we have to learn you didn't even do it out of duty but for _fun_!?" – Was Alec's opening line as soon as he entered Q's hospital room with Bond in tow. Both men looked vivid. So, they had spoken to Moneypenny already… Good, one less thing to explain to them then.

The patient just looked at the two raging agents silently.

"You don't even care, do you?" – Asked 007 angrily, hitting the nightstand in a violent outburst then rubbing his hurting fist wincing.

The Quartermaster still refused to answer.

"What's wrong with you, boy!?" – Screamed 006 at the top of his lungs and Q wondered when security would try to have the two thrown out. It would be an interesting match to see for sure.

Finally, Q spoke up.

"It wouldn't have mattered to me either way. That's the truth. But why do _you_ care anyway?"

"You're kidding, right? We're your FRIENDS!"

"Are you though?"

"WHAT!?"

"I asked: are you sure we're really friends?"

"Of course, we are sure. Did you hit your head in that bank?"

"Actually, yes. I did. But I know very well what I'm talking about if that's what you mean." – Spat Q angrily. – "And I thought _friends_ spent time together outside of work as well. That they knew each other's names and cared for each other on a personal level too; not only professionally. Neither of these criteria is true for us. So, I'll ask again: are you absolutely sure we're friends?"

Both men blinked in surprise, looking a bit guilty.

"Q… I don't know what to say. You never said you weren't happy with how the things were." – Stuttered Bond.

"So, you're saying that it's my fault?"

"I didn't say that. But I can honestly say we consider you a friend."

Alec nodded in agreement.

"Yes, boffin. I would never have thought you didn't feel like that. I'm sorry."

"It that's true, would you be willing to keep in touch even if I'm not working for MI6 anymore?"

"If you're no- WHAT!?" – Said the two agents together.

"You heard. We'll you be interested in me even if I'm not your Quartermaster anymore?"

"But you ARE the Quartermaster! It's just stupid to pretend you're not when you are and-"

"But I won't be anymore. I'm leaving, guys."

"NO!" – Shouted both of them together.

"Yes. It's done, there's no taking it back now. But, if you're interested in being friends. I mean, _really_ , this time. I would be glad."

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

"Your understanding means a lot to me, Bill." – Q said gratefully, accepting a small, plastic cup of tea from the older man. It was sadly not his usual Earl Grey, but the hospital vending machine only had your average lemon tea to offer. Still, it was better than nothing.

"I'm not happy about your decision but if you really don't feel good about working here anymore than perhaps this is for the best. I really-really don't want you to do anything as stupid as joining a gang anymore, Q." – Admonished the man gently, sipping his own favorless coffee with a grimace.

Q smiled sheepishly.

"I'll never do that again. I've learnt my lesson: those who want to change who I am, aren't my real friends. Real friends want me for myself."

"Exactly. Now I really don't know why you don't feel that _I_ want you for who you are…"

"It's not because of you, Bill! Really. I think I'm just tired of this… whole life. I wish for something else. I would like to keep in touch though. Maybe even meet your kids sometime? I like children you know. I understand if you don't want to leave them alone with me, especially after all that's happened, and it's fine but-"

"I'd be glad to have you as a babysitter if you really think you're up to dealing with them. I just didn't want to burden you; not because of lack of trust, but because I knew how tired you are from all the work and I also know that my kids are a handful. I thought you'd want to rest not run after two hyperactive little devils."

"I actually would love to run after them."

"Then it's a deal!"

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

Two days later, Q entered M's office, having received a 'come in' response to his knock. M seemed to have aged at least twenty years over the past few days; or maybe it was just Q's eyes playing tricks on him. Whatever the reason, the kind man looked really weary and tired right now.

"Quartermaster. Please, take a seat."

"Thank you, sir. You wanted to talk to me? I take it, it's about the letter I sent to you…"

"Yes. I withheld it for the time-being, hoping, we could talk about it, and you'd change your mind…"

"No, sir. I won't. I'm sorry." – The man looked close to tears. – "But I'm willing to explain my reasons, if that'll help?"

M sighed.

"Do tell me, please. I want to understand. You know, I won't even begin to deny that what you did was foolish at best and I should probably suspend you for it. But I won't. I wouldn't. You've been through a lot lately and everyone is allowed to make mistakes. And thanks to your courage to ask for help at the very last moment, nobody got seriously hurt. You shouldn't feel like you have to leave because of it. I also understand why you felt like you had to tell the others the truth about your little 'undercover mission'. It's fine. We can just forget this ever happened…"

Q hated how hopeful the leader of MI6 sounded, and he hated even more to have to shatter that hope.

"Sir… ahm… This is not the reason I want to leave. This was just… Let's say: the last straw."

"Then what? What happened to you?"

"I just feel like I'm not doing enough here. I mean, those people I got arrested a few days ago? They were my friends! Sure, they were what you'd call 'bad company' but they accepted me and offered me a team to belong to. I saw into their lives and I learnt their stories. They're just young adults you know, and they never had a chance."

"What do you mean by 'never had a chance'?"

"I mean that they didn't have rich parents, a supporting family, good education, decently paying jobs… They were on the edge of society; invisible to 'normal people' until they make trouble. And then the authorities come and get them and everything is fine again because the 'normal people' won't have to see them anymore. Problem solved. It's just sad."

"Yes, it is. But that's what life is like, Q. You've seen your fair share of horrible things, don't tell me you only just got confronted with real life?"

"No, of course not. But it's one thing to know about it and totally different to be _in_ it. I was with them! I went with them to clubs and I saw them taking drugs and drink until they fell over! Well, you know what: I participated!" – M squeezed his eyes shut as if it could spare him having to picture the young man in these situations. – "They told me how they lost their parents or how their siblings were murdered. We walked the streets and everyone just turned away, muttering 'rascals' even when we weren't doing anything wrong. This group… they keep together because they can't rely on anyone else."

"I'm glad you're not with them anymore."

"Well, the point is: I don't want to be the one designing weapons that will be used against people like that."

"We use weapons against terrorist, Q. That's totally different. Our missions-"

"Our missions, sir, with all due respect, require more money each than what could help hundreds of people escape a fate like that and maybe; just maybe; prevent them becoming terrorists in the first place! I'm not saying there wouldn't be bad guys at all; I'm not that naïve. But I also know that lots of people could do better if they just had a chance to prove themselves!"

"And that chance would be what? Give them money?"

"No. But it's not fair that we should give _certain_ agents luxury car after luxury car to crash to their heart's desire; to have to foot the bill of luxurious hotels all around the world because it's the most comfortable place to bring women to…" Or if we do, we shouldn't be surprised that normal people look at us; and under 'us' I mean the whole military and government; and only see thieves who steal hard-working taxpayers' money while others are struggling to even survive day by day. I'm not going to be a part of that anymore."

"And what would you like to do then?"

"I have a few ideas though nothing specific yet. I know I want to help people like that _before_ they become criminals. I believe most of them aren't born bad; the circumstances make them that way. I can relate to being ignored and feeling like you're out of glass. That people just look through you instead of at you. Or feeling like nobody really knows you and they don't make the effort to get to know you at all."

At that, M looked decidedly horrified.

"Is that really how you've felt here?"

"Mostly… Anyway, I want to show these people that life can be different. Better."

M sighed for what was the hundredth time, looking for all the world like tons of weights were pulling down his shoulders.

"All right, Q. I'll accept your resignation with heavy heart then. I can't really do anything else. I want you to know that I'm honestly very sorry that things have gotten this bad and it was never my intention to make you feel that way."

"I know that, sir. And it's okay: it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault. It's something about me… I'll have to work on it. To be more myself and not hide behind a façade."

"I would like you to know that it was an honor having you with us and I will still consider you a dear friend even when you'll be gone. I hope we'll meet again someday."

"I'm sure we will. And I thank you sir, for everything. It's been an honor for me too and I think I've learnt a lot. I haven't regretted coming to work here. I just feel that it's time to leave now."

"All right. I will have to take your credentials and we'll have lots of paperwork to reinstate your civil personality…"

And with that, Q wasn't Q anymore, but a certain Sebastian Holt who had mysteriously disappeared some years ago, came back to life instead.

 **J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B * J * B**

 _6 months later…_

Months later, Sebastian – previously known as 'Q' – couldn't have been happier about his decision to leave MI6 to pursue his own dreams. In just half a year he had done more good for the community than in his entire life before that, and that made him happy.

Yes: he was _happy_. Very much so in fact. With guest-lecturing at several universities of Europe, he had the opportunity to keep up his scientific work and research, especially on his favorite fields: mathematics and physics. Computer sciences came a close second, followed by chemistry. He enjoyed working with young students – the programmers and experts of the future. Looking at them, all hope in humanity sparkled to life in him again. He was glad that he didn't only see the dark side of people anymore, like he had before.

His previous shyness and awkwardness were all but totally gone now; not being tucked away and hidden from everything and everyone constantly underground worked miracles to a man, it would seem. He had no problems communicating with others now and had lots of new friends – the right kind who didn't expect him to do drugs or smoke in their company to put up with him and who didn't only want to talk about work all the time.

Aside from teaching and researching, Sebastian occasionally assisted at public high schools, with special focus on troubled, high-risk children. He had made it his mission to catch them in time, preferably before they started on a downhill road that could ruin their lives. He did his best to help these children straighten out their futures and get better perspectives for them than just lingering at the edge of society or mixing with bad company. He considered this his most important task of all and gave it his best efforts.

Currently, he was living in Paris and he adored every minute he spent in that beautiful city. Of course, by now he'd had to get over his fear of flying with his work bringing him to a different country almost weekly but still, he preferred trains as means for traveling whenever possible. He had found a new hobby as well: travelling. He had never known before that so many wonderful places existed. Usually, when he had a day off, he would buy a ticket for the train and just went where it would take him. He had visited many previously for him completely unknown little towns like that lately, and he sometimes even had company.

Now he had three whole days just for relaxing and was how he had ended up in London St. Pancras, for the first time since he had left that fateful day after saying goodbye to his life as Quartermaster. Up until now, he had consciously avoided coming back to the city, preferring to let his emotions completely settle down before visiting again. Now, he felt, it was time. Dragging his luggage like a naughty dog on a leash and maneuvering through the hurrying crowds at the busy Eurostar station, he tried looking over the heads of people to see if he could spot the man who had enthusiastically offered to pick him up upon arrival.

Sure enough, he soon saw an agitated Tanner making his way towards him with difficulty, every now and again colliding with someone, muttering 'excuse me's and 'I'm sorry's all the way. Sebastian had to stifle a chuckle: Bill surely hadn't changed anything. He opted to just stay put and wait for the older man patiently.

Soon, he felt a friendly squeeze on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry for making you wait. I didn't expect this station to be that crowded."

"It's okay, I'm happy to see you, Bill." – He assured as they embraced.

"And I'm happy to see you! You look very good. Relaxed and contented. How are you, Sebastian?"

While talking, they had started towards the exit, where Tanner had parked the car.

"I'm super! I have so much to tell you guys and I want to hear everything that's been going on here."

"Oh, you will. The others are already in the club, waiting for us. Everyone's there, even M! They're so excited that you're finally here again; Eve couldn't concentrate on her work the whole day. 006 and 007 haven't been speaking about anything but you for two days now. And your minions have a surprise for you, I think, though please, don't tell them I warned you. They still consider you their Overlord, you know."

They had just reached the car; the same one Sebastian – as Q back then of course – had restored and tuned up for Tanner for his 40th birthday.

"Wow. You know what, Bill?"

"What?"

"It's good to be back." – It really was. He didn't wish his old life as Quartermaster back but still, he had missed his previous colleagues. And true to their promise, they had stayed interested in him even though he wasn't working with them anymore.

They wrote e-mails and talked on the phone at least twice a month and now he undoubtedly considered them _friends_. There was no question about that anymore.

As they were driving through London's rush hour traffic with Bill impatiently tapping in the steering wheel, Sebastian couldn't help but think: 'Life is perfect'.


End file.
